


Parts

by primsong



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Fifth Doctor Era, First Doctor Era, Fourth Doctor Era, Gen, Humor, Multi-Era, Second Doctor Era, Seventh Doctor Era, Sixth Doctor Era, Third Doctor Era, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-11
Updated: 2010-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primsong/pseuds/primsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a wonder the TARDIS was still holding together after all this time - of course, she'd had plenty of creative repairs. Seven vignettes for the Classic Doctors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jelly

**Author's Note:**

> Like the frontier-blacksmith of old, the Doctor didn't exactly have all the resources he needed to keep his ship together. Fortunately, there were nearly always other things handy that could do the trick.

The Doctor pulled on a knob and it came off in his hand.

There were times, he reflected, that he completely forgot how his ship had been a second-hand wreck, but this definitely wasn't one of them. It was a little embarrassing. He surreptitiously glanced at the others in the room, but Ian and Barbara were laughing over a book and Susan was apparently engrossed in her most recent attempt at learning to knit. The Doctor fished around in his pocket, finally pulling out a lint-covered jellied candy.

He contemplated it for a moment, remembering that drizzling, cold day when he and Susan had been out to explore that little bit of London that she loved so well.

"This is my school, Grandfather!"

"Yes, well," he'd said, thumbing his lapels thoughtfully. "Not much to look at, is it?"

The unexpected look of _hurt_ in her eyes had kept him from saying more. He suddenly very much wanted to erase it, to take back his words. He didn't apologize - after all what he'd stated was true - but he'd almost immediately taken her off down the street, whisked her into the warm, dry sweets shop on the corner. There the bright colours, caramel-scents and rainbow-swirled sweets worked their wonder and restored her sparkle; they'd laughed together as they'd carefully chosen exactly two of each flavour of jelly to share out of a little white paper sack.

This sad little jelly had been quite forgotten, but its fate would soon be worse. Jamming it up into the knob with his pinkie, he firmly screwed the offending piece back onto its handle.

There. That would do it. It was a useless memory now anyway.


	2. Buckle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His pockets had seen so many different times...

The scanner fizzled and went dark. He scowled and adjusted the console control. Nothing.

"Doctor, what happened?" Victoria asked.

"It's broken, o' course," Jamie said. The Doctor could have sworn he was almost gleeful about it too.

"It's nothing of the sort," he retorted, though he knew it was. "Just something there that… needs a little adjusting." He looked over at Jamie, who smiled that he didn't believe a word of it. He punched another button, willing it to work, and was rewarded with a hum as the scanner-screen obligingly lowered down toward the floor. "Go on, now, I'll just take a look at this. I'm sure it's nothing." He waved a hand at them dismissively.

They didn't leave, though Victoria started to.

Annoyed, he pulled open the panel at the back of the scanner screen. As he'd feared, one of the connections was entirely blown. On the other hand, if he just crossed that wire over to there and moved that…he was sure he could jury-rig something…

Grumbling to himself to cover his embarrassment, he patted his pockets and rummaged around in them. Yes, he knew she was an old ship, but she didn't have to go and fall apart right in front of Jamie, did she? It was a matter of pride. He'd soon set it right. He had to.

Pulling out a small tool set he quickly loosened the old connecters, glad once again that the humble screw had never been truly replaced. The wires were rearranged, but wouldn't stay put. Annoyed, he stuck his screwdriver in his mouth and rummaged again with both hands.

After discarding several mints, a spare handkerchief, a rock, a broken gnomic-chronometer and a horse-chestnut as unsuitable he settled on a small chain of paperclips and a wire-tie from a breadbag. These were threaded around a divided square of brass that he only belatedly recognized as a 17th century shoe-buckle. He wondered if it had been Jamie's; no, he'd had nothing so fine as a real brass buckle to his name when they'd taken him on. He'd had almost nothing, even his kin were on their way to extinction.

He pushed away the thought. It made him sympathetic towards him, and considering the cockiness of the lad today that wasn't what he wanted.

Between the clips, wire and buckle, the connection was finally clamped down. He screwed down the screws and stuffed the rest of his treasures back into his pockets. The cover snapped back into place.

"There!" He said with delighted triumph. "Good as new!" He rubbed his hands and went to the console , raising the scanner back to its place near the ceiling.

"Aren't you going to turn it back on?" Victoria asked after a moment.

"Oh, no, we don't need it now. All we have to do is open the doors and we'll see soon enough."

Jamie grinned. He looked back at his friend, raising his chin defiantly. Didn't believe it was fixed, did he? He pushed away his own misgivings and then slathered some bluster over them for good measure.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Jamie said, wagging a single finger up towards the dark screen. "Ye're afraid it'll blow again?"

"Nonsense." He smacked the door-control and it opened to a windy, rock-strewn plain.

"I think it was that knob over there somewhere, in case ye've forgotten."

"Jamie!" Victoria said as she pulled on her coat. "Come on!"

"All right, all right," he replied, allowing her to pull him along. "But watch out that those old doors don't fall right off when y' close 'em!"

The Doctor waited until they were out the door then quickly turned the scanner back on. There was a popping noise, but the picture came back up. He started to smile then just as quickly frowned. It was upside-down. He whacked his hand back onto the knob - too late.

Outside he could already hear their muffled laughter.

He headed out the door and couldn't quite stop himself from checking the door-hinges as he went.

-


	3. Lipstick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then there's all those useful things companions carry with them...

"We've got him," the Doctor said as he rapidly set the coordinates to intercept the Master's getaway. The console rose and fell and…. stayed fallen. The lights within it flickered. "Oh good grief…" he said. "Not now!"

Jo looked at it with concern. "Does this mean he's getting away after all?"

"Not if I can help it!"

She stepped back as he performed a sort of frenetic ballet around the console, smacking buttons, turning dials and whacking at levers. Nothing happened.

He dove onto the floor, pulling open the console base and stuffing an arm into the mess of wires up to his elbow. "Ha," he said and shifted to stuff his arm in even further, "I think I've found the problem. Or one of them anyway."

"Can you fix it?"

He didn't reply. Frowning with concentration he scrounged around in the console innards and then gave something a yank. The remaining lights in the center went dark.

"The lights stopped," Jo put in, not sure if it was helpful news or not.

"Yes, and this is why." He held up a small metal tube thing that appeared to be nearly corroded away on one side. Pulling a small torch from his pocket, he squirreled around on his back and shoved his head into the slot where his arm had been.

"Ihdl need anobber, oh somfin juslike…" he muffled out from the console.

"What?"

He pulled his head out, and she grinned down at him. "I can't understand you when your head is in a bucket."

"She's far more than a bucket!" the Doctor said loyally, slapping the side of the console's base. "She's a state-of-the-art piece of advanced technology."

"That doesn't run. Now, what was it you were saying?"

He gave her an irritated look and started to slide back under then slid back out again. "Jo! I've got it! Have you any lipstick with you?"

She blinked at him. "Um, I think so. It's in my purse."

"Get it!"

"All right," she said, fetching her bag, "but I really don't think it's your colour." She fished it out and handed it over to him with a grin.

"Cheeky girl," he said.

"Yes, thank you. What are you going to do with it?"

He pulled the lid off and began twisting it to lift the lipstick up. "Well, I'm afraid I've got to empty it out."

"It's almost new!" she protested.

"Sorry, Jo. I'll have the Brigadier replace it for you."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll just love that! Here sir, would you mind buying my assistant some new lipstick, it seems we've used it all up. No thanks, I'll get it myself."

He popped the soft tube of colour out and handed it up to her. "Here you go."

"Thank you, I guess," she said, looking at it critically. "You know, there isn't as much in one of those as you'd think there would be, is there?"

He didn't hear her, his head and arm already back under the console, empty tube in hand.

"Oh! The lights are back on!" she called.

He wrestled his way back out again. "Yes, and after I adjust the coordinates…" he climbed back to his feet. "We'll be after the Master."

"Will it go now?"

He moved some knobs and levers. Nothing happened. He gave it a hard kick. There was a wheezing noise and the column began to rise and fall.

"You _kicked_ it?"

"Of course, this is a very delicate piece of machinery," he said, embarrassed, "But, well, yes. Sometimes."

She propped herself up with her elbows on the console. "When I kick the vending machine in the canteen it drops a bag of crisps. What did you get?"

"Another chance at setting things right, I suppose," he said. "Look, there he is."


	4. Rope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's to the British Navy.

"Good God," the Doctor said, surveying what was left of the lower seal on the right-hand door. Outside the chemicals rampant in this planet's ocean were no doubt giving the blue paint job a real cleaning. A slow stream of the water (if you could call it that) silently oozed through that tiny crack.

"Don't touch it, Sarah-Jane," he said firmly. "I've no idea what it might do to flesh."

"I hadn't any intention of touching it," she retorted. "We aren't going to sink, are we?"

"Sink? No, well…no, not for a very, very long time anyway. Though I suppose if we don't plug this leak it would not be entirely outside of the realm of possibility. That inter-spatial explosion must have caught the old girl at a weak point."

"Can't we just relocate? You know…go somewhere dry?"

He was down on his knees eyeballing it more closely and turned, wrinkling his nose up at her. "I don't think it would be wise just now. Not with a hole in my ship."

"And I thought you said it was impervious." She crossed her arms and waited for a reply. He just kept making little rumbling 'hmm, hmm' noises. "Can't you fix it?" she prodded.

"Of course I can!" he said authoritatively, possibly to hide his embarrassment. "And she is impervious. Entirely impervious! You've just caught her at a bad moment, that's all." He climbed back to his feet and considered the problem. "Let's see, we know it reduces any kind of artificial plastics to liquid form, but what does it do with natural fibres and resins, I wonder?"

He abruptly paced over to a cabinet and yanked it open, ignoring the jumble of whatnot that fell to the floor. Sarah-Jane watched in bemusement as he half-climbed in, rummaging and burrowing. There was an exclamation of triumph and he stepped back, pulling out an old length of fat, tarred rope. There was a noose at the end of it.

Sarah-Jane raised her eyebrows at him. "Ew. What in the world are you doing with that? Are you planning on hanging yourself out of remorse or are we asking for a tow?"

He grinned. "No, no, no. Of course not. But watch this." He reached back into the cabinet and her eyebrows went up another notch when he pulled out a hatchet. He laid the rope on the floor and gave it a good whack to separate two short chunks off the end. He held them up and grinned.

"And…?"

"And now," he said, "you and I will engage in a very ancient form of recycling. We're making oakum."

"Making what?"

He brought it over, handed her one and began pulling it apart. "Oakum. They used to use it to plug holes in wooden ships in the British fleet. Rammed it in. Here. You pull it apart into strands, then those are pulled to yarn, then the yarn to threads."

"Easier said than done," she muttered, yanking at the twisted, sticky hemp. "Ow, it prickles my fingers. Haven't you a handy sack of oakum somewhere in that cupboard?"

He rapidly worked at his beside her. "No. Now here, let me take this bit and try my theory." He snagged a bit of the fibre, taking it to the elongating puddle by the door. He dropped it in. Nothing happened. He waited while they kept working at their unraveling and still the bit of rope sat unchanged. "Perfect."

Pulling apart the last of the bits of tarry rope, they rolled the fibres into fat sausages. These he stuffed under the door with the aid of a wooden spoon handle and a bamboo scraper until they were thoroughly rammed into place. The leak stopped.

"Nothing like the good old British Navy," Sarah-Jane said. "Hand me that barnacle-scraper, cap'n!"


	5. Earring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's how to treat a lady.

The Doctor leaned down and closely considered the reading on the console, then tweaked a setting. With a small pop, the end of the button came off and the spring beneath it shot up to bounce off of his forehead. Startled, he still managed to catch both parts.

"Having troubles with it again?" Tegan asked. Turlough held out a plate of sandwiches he'd made and she took one absently. "This old thing needs a proper mechanic."

The Doctor stuffed the pieces into his pocket. "I have no idea what you're talking about. She always runs perfectly." He leaned forward again, placing a hand strategically over the missing button.

The second button in the array popped off. This time his companions witnessed his startled recoiling as a spring-fired bit rebounded off his chin.

Turlough nearly choked on his sandwich. "Was that a button…?"

"Off the console?" Tegan finished.

The Doctor grimaced as he had to chase after bits of his own console. He briefly held one of the springs up to the light and frowned at it. "All right, maybe she doesn't always run perfectly, but she does most of the time."

"Right," said Tegan with a straight face, just before there was a tremendous lurch and they were all thrown to the floor. She whacked Turlough's shoe away from her face. "Ow! What the fat-end-of-a-rumpus was that?!"

"I don't know…" the Doctor said with concern. He scrambled back up and quickly checked the readings. "Something isn't right here."

Tegan sat up and rolled her eyes. Turlough apologetically gave her a hand up and peeled his squashed sandwich off of his sleeve.

The Doctor's hands flew over the console checking settings, then suddenly stopped. He frantically patted his pockets and fished out the button parts that had broken off. Once again he held the springs up to the light. "Oh no."

"What?" his companions chorused.

"These are brittle. The springs. I need new springs," he said faintly. "And I need them now." He looked around the room desperately, as if expecting the missing parts to pop out of the walls at him and patted his pockets again.

"What is it?" Tegan demanded. "What are you talking about?"

"Springs. I need two. Or we're…well, it might not be pretty."

"Or we're what?"

"Possibly going to veer right off the vectoral plane in the vortex." Gritting his teeth, he jammed his thumbs into the slots where the buttons had been and tried jiggling them in various ways, apparently to no avail. A humming began to build, growing louder the longer it went and everything began to vibrate. He looked up at Tegan and his expression suddenly changed. "Your earrings!"

"What…?" she asked, not sure what he'd said over the rapidly growing, teeth-aching hum.

"Take them off!"

Turlough looked over at her and realized the shape of the adornments in question. "Yes!" he said, understanding. "Take them off, Tegan!"

"Waitaminute!" she said, backing away from the two of them. Alien forces were something she was getting used to, sort of, but she really hated it when they took over her companions. For the Doctor and Turlough to both be suddenly demanding that she apparently undress in some way was more than a little unsettling to say the least. She grabbed up the empty sandwich tray as a potential weapon, trying to figure out which one she'd bop with it first. "I'm not taking anything off!" she shouted.

They both blinked at her with an identical uncomprehending frowny expression.

"It's just your earrings!" Turlough shouted back.

"What the blazes - Tegan I NEED those earrings! Please!" The Doctor said at the same time. He was holding down the empty button areas, hanging on with desperation as a second slamming motion threw them all to the side. The TARDIS began rocking like a ship at sea.

She looked up at him from the floor. "Just my earrings? Well, why didn't you say so?" She reached up and slipped the gold coils from her ears, handing them up to him.

He snatched them, rummaging in a pocket to pull out a pair of needle-nose pliers. With a couple deft motions he twisted them, hooked them into the console slots and attached the buttons. Cramming them into place he looked back down at her. "Are they real gold?"

"Yeah! What, you think I wear that crummy…"

"Good. Perfect. Well within the parameters."

The horrible humming faded away. The rocking stopped. There was a pause and then a slight, more healthy-sounding hum as the TARDIS resumed its former course. The Doctor pulled a roll of electrical tape from his pocket and taped both of the buttons down with a big X, just for good measure.

He patted the console. "You know, I had someone once tell me that nothing settles a lady down faster than getting her some nice jewelry, but this is first time I've believed it."


	6. Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And_ umbrella...!

"Oh no no, that's not acceptable, no," the Doctor said, running towards the console. "Not acceptable at all."

Mel looked up from the exercise magazine she'd begun reading to him with surprise. They'd only just set off a few moments before and she'd hardly gotten past the contents page. Looking up and around at the lights she watched for a flicker or a flash, expecting some sign of trouble but all seemed well.

He was already smacking an array of sliders up to the top and punching some buttons. The central pillar in the console paused, pumped slowly upward and stopped, blinking. Now that the wheezing, humming sound had stopped there was a disconcerting fizzling noise. If she'd been thinking he was only trying to get away from hearing about the virtues of organic vegetables, Mel's fears were laid to rest - even she could hear it, and it seemed to be coming from somewhere down inside or underneath the pillar.

"That doesn't sound healthy," Mel noted with concern.

"It isn't," the Doctor snapped unhappily. "And it's not healthy in a rather very not-healthy-ish way."

He lowered himself to the floor and pried open the console.

She set aside the magazine and came to peer down at what he was doing. "How not-healthy-ish? As in only a little sprain or in need of hospital?"

"Let's just say it needs a Doctor," he quipped lightly, though his levity was obviously rather strained. "Umph," he grunted, trying to reach something inside the column. He grit his teeth, just waiting for the comment from Mel. Sure enough…

"You know, it would be easier to reach it if…"

"I lost some weight, I know," he growled. "But unless you've got a shrinker-beam handy, that's not likely to happen in the next five minutes, is it?"

"Sorry," she said, only slightly mollified.

"Blast."

"Is it bad?"

He smacked the side of the console, frustrated. "I can't get at it, not without having to take half the console apart. And I don't have time for that; it's dissolving. If I could even get something around it, to contain it for a while that would minimize the damage to the rest…"

"Contain it? What in the world _dissolves_ in there?"

He didn't answer. "Something like a…." He lunged up from the floor. "Where's those vitamins? That bottle of vitamins you were shoving at me earlier?"

"What?" she said, startled.

"Where are they? It's important!"

"All right, just a minute!" She pulled out a drawer from the bottom of her reading bench, extracting a bottle. "They don't work that fast, you know," she said as he snatched them from her. He was in such a dither she was half-afraid he was going to down the entire bottle right then and there.

He popped off the lid and unceremoniously dumped them out, ignoring Mel's sound of protest. Tossing the lid, he stuffed the empty bottle in a pocket and ran across to where his umbrella lay. He popped it open.

"What in the world are you doing?!" she said from where she was trying to gather all the rolling pills back together in a heap.

"Long and thin," he said. "Flexible. As much as I regret this…" He pulled a small pocketknife from his other pocket, flipped up a blade and quickly ripped at a seam on his beloved colourful bumbershoot. One of the metal ribs was popped and soon slipped out into his hand.

"There!" He whipped it in the air experimentally, like a rapier. "Perfect." Throwing himself on the floor by the open console, he quickly threaded the empty glass vitamin bottle onto the end of the umbrella rib and balancing it, worked it into the innards of the console base. "Almost got it... almost… almost… got it… there!"

Climbing back to his feet he waved the rib around triumphantly as he checked the readings. "That'll hold it. I can replace it anytime now." The array of sliders was smacked back downward and with a hum the pillar resumed pumping. He turned round to Mel, obviously pleased with himself but apparently forgetting about the ribbing still in his hand.

"Awk!" said Mel, or something to that effect as her hard-won handful of vitamins were smacked flying for a second time. "Doctor!"

"Whoops, sorry," he said and almost, sort of, meant it. In reply she stepped up and stuffed the sole remaining vitamin straight into his mouth.

"Whoops, sorry," she replied, and almost, sort of, meant it too.


	7. Worm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His previous incarnations hobbies must have cluttered up the place, but on the other hand, they could also come in handy...

Dashing inside the TARDIS, the Doctor skidded to a stop at the console, automatically smacking the door control, just in case. He looked up at the scanner, watching intently, his hand poised over Ace's boombox where it was lightly wired to one of the console's inputs.

Ace came running over the weed-strewn lot, heading straight for him.

Watching, he waited until she was past any possible danger from the potential blast. "….now," he said to himself, twisting a knob on the console and poking a button on the boombox at the same time.

In the town, any local inhabitants who had their radios on all frowned and leaned toward their sets to jiggle their tuners as a blast of what sounded like a jazz-saxophone came through.

In the large factory-like building behind Ace, a small but deadly army of hostile robotic weaponry heard the same saxophone…and exploded. Ace dove to the ground, instinctively covering her head though she was far enough out even the exploding window-glass now tinkling to the earth all around the building fell yards short of her.

"Good girl, Ace!" the Doctor said happily. On the scanner, she was already climbing back to her feet looking somewhat smug. As she closed the remaining distance to the waiting TARDIS, he punched off the boombox, hit the door control to let her in, and turned ready to greet and congratulate her.

The doors started to open, then inexplicably stopped only a little ways in. Ace bounced off of them. "Hey!" she protested. "Professor!"

He stared at the doors, so surprised by their malfunctioning he momentarily forgot about his companion who was now shoving her arm through the crack trying to force them further apart.

"What the devil…?" he said, smacking the door control again, then jiggling it in various directions.

"Open the door!"

"I did! The control seems to be a bit sticky…" He tried bobbling it rapidly, then slowly, then kicked the console base just for good measure. When that didn't work, he came over to the doors themselves and just stood there a moment, looking at them thoughtfully. He poked at various parts of them with his umbrella.

"Umph!" Ace said, pushing to no avail. "Let me in!"

"I would if I could, Ace! They seem to be well and truly stuck. How odd. They've never done that before." He scratched under his hat. "This could be most inconvenient."

"Professor!" Ace said with a mixture of equal parts annoyance and anxiety. "If any of those robots made it through that blast they're going to be coming this way." She pulled her arm out and part of her face appeared in the gap instead. "That's what I call inconvenient! Hurry up and fix them!"

"Well, it's either the control, the connection or the doors themselves…" he mused. He ran back to the console and pulled a tool from his pocket. He extended a wire from it and threaded this into a tiny hole next to the door control then checked the resulting reading. "Hm. Not the control…"

"What?"

"Not the control!" he repeated more loudly, pocketing his diagnostic device. "I'm working on it!" He got down on his knees and pried up a panel from the floor. He peered down inside it, then pulled a penlight from his pocket and shone it around.

Ace looked anxiously back toward the smoking factory where a distant clanking and rumbling sound could be heard, then peered inside again. He was partly upside-down, his head and shoulders poking around in the hole.

"Doctor! I think they're coming!"

"Aha!" he said in a muffled voice. "I think I see the problem."

"Fix it!"

He pulled his head back out a moment, sat back, rumpling up his hair thoughtfully. "Just a moment…"

He stuck his head back in the hole.

"What in the world are you doing fishing around in there?" she called. She looked back at the factory again. There was a very definite metallic rumbling and it was very definitely getting louder.

She put her eye to the crack in the doors again. He was gone. A finger tweaked the end of her nose and half of the Doctor's beaming face looked out at her.

"I've got it!" he said happily."What you just said!"

"What I said?"

"About fishing! Exactly! Be right back!"

"Professor!" She glimpsed him running off down the hallway and shook her head with disbelief. Ace sidled around the TARDIS, beginning to seriously wonder if she needed to just start running for the town or digging a hole to hide in or something.

After a moment she sidled back around to the doors, pushing them just to check. They didn't budge.

"Ha! Yes! Perfect fit!" he was crowing somewhere inside.

Ace peered into the crack again. The Doctor was kneeling by the access panel in the floor with what appeared to be a fishing-tackle box open beside him, a tangled jumble of snarled lures and line hanging over the edges. He'd measured out a length of line, snipped it, tied on a three-pronged hook and was carefully attaching a daisy-chain of rubber worms, tiny fake squid and minnows onto it. All of this was gently gathered into a rubbery loop. He stuck the penlight in his mouth and dove back into the hole with it.

Ace slumped back against the TARDIS doors, blowing some wayward strands of hair out of her eyes. This was it. He'd officially gone 'round the bend. She'd always guessed he was slightly mad anyway, but…

The doors opened.

Ace fell into the TARDIS, sitting abruptly in an undignified manner on the floor.

"Ow! Hey! You got them open!" she said in disbelief.

The Doctor popped his head back up from the hole in the floor, the penlight still clutched in his teeth. He pulled it out and grinned at her maniacally. "It worked!"

There was a rumbling noise outside; gravel near the doorway exploded. The Doctor reached up to the console and smacked the control as Ace scrambled away from open doors. This time they obediently swung as they were supposed to, and all the way shut.

Ace brushed gravel from her jacket. "What do we do about that one?"

"Just a moment," the Doctor said. He punched a button on her boombox where it still sat on the console. There was a blast of music; on the scanner screen the last robot give a disjointed jump as its innards exploded. He looked back at her obviously pleased with himself.

Ace scooped his hat off the floor, handing it to him with a shake of her head. "Really Professor. What am I going to do about you? And no, I don't want to know how a rubber worm fixed that."

"You don't?" he looked disappointed, but popped his hat on his head and rallied anyway. "Aren't you even at least just a little bit curious?" He leaned over towards her as if he had a great secret to share and when she didn't respond threw in a little pout. " Just a bit?"

"Oh, all right," she said, giving in. "But don't expect me to understand it."

"All right," he said, happy as a child showing off a new toy. "You see, the quadielastic transducer cables have these positronic cellulodic joint pips encasing the grappling portion of the fromatoledic.."

Ace reached over and turned up the music.

-


End file.
